White Noise: Hotel

Continuing on the topic of liminal spaces, a hotel is a place that provides all the comforts of home without actually being home. For those looking to escape the comforts of home for a few days, a hotel is a wonderful thing. For those who want to be at home, a hotel quickly loses its charm and allure. Sometimes, all I want is to be in my own bed.

5:57pm

Rain and gray skies. People in cars returning home. I am circling the block looking for an address. One-way street

Step inside. Cold tile. Modernist twilight zone. Friendly smile at the desk. Welcome, we’ve been expecting you. Complimentary water.

Park in the garage. Dusty and hot inside. The roar of the ventilation fans. Belly of a concrete labyrinth.

3rd floor. Standard room. King size bed. The sheets are pulled taut. No mint. Instead there is a placard that reads, “How was our service today?” Remember when nobody wanted your opinion?

Unpack. Hang clothes for tomorrow. Charge batteries. Pull open shades. Sunset. The rain has stopped. Need to walk. Need to move. 8 hours in a car. I am 3 hours from home. I will see my apartment tomorrow. The room is friendly in a falsely comforting way but it isn’t home. Home is where I long to be.

Campus across the street. Evening stroll. The air is humid. Students preparing for graduation. Pictures in front of the fountain and pictures on the steps beneath the tower. Their own liminal space. Finals are over but graduation isn’t until next week. Photos of buildings. Memories of evening strolls through campus. The smell of trees. Summer is coming.

Empty streets. The buzz from a neon sign hanging from the restaurant on the corner. No traffic. Few cars. Lights in the windows of the office buildings. Empty, except for the cleaners. An invisible army of people working when everyone else is at home.

Late night restaurant. Middle table. Businessmen surrounded by plates of food. Sports on the television. No interest. Students eating together after a studying session. Couples. Perhaps saying goodbye until next semester. Food has arrived. Loud music on the radio drowns out the conversation.

Step outside into silence. That vibration you feel on a quiet street in an otherwise busy city. Silent but pulsating. Walk back across the street. The red and green of the traffic lights. Walk signal glows white.

Street entrance. No wave from the front desk. He doesn’t raise his head. Empty lobby and empty lounge. A large pitcher of water with cucumber slices and ice sits relatively untouched on the table. Condensation on the glass.

Keycard in the elevator. Outside my room. Anonymous hallway. That clicking sound. Shoes off. Bed. Check Instagram. Air conditioning on low. Click off the bedside lamp. A sliver of street light pouring in through the small opening in the shades.

Another long day begins shortly but first a restless sleep.

12:37am